Page 57 of Rage

We all trail out of the room toward the basement where we have a gym and in the middle of the room is a boxing ring.

The ring.Familiar territory.My boots sink into the worn canvas as I step inside.Liam circles opposite me, eyes narrowed.

The basement air is thick with the scent of sweat and leather.The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows, highlighting the grim determination on every face.My brothers form a loose circle around the ring, tension crackling in the air like electricity.

I roll my shoulders, muscles coiled tight with anticipation.Across from me, Liam strips off his cut, revealing arms corded with muscle.For a man his age, he’s kept himself in fighting shape.This won’t be easy.

Good.I don’t want easy.

“You sure about this, old man?”I taunt, unable to resist needling him.“Wouldn’t want you to throw out your back.”

Liam’s eyes narrow, a dangerous glint sparking to life.“Watch your mouth, boy.I’ve been beating punks like you since before you were in diapers.”

We circle each other, feet light on the canvas.The room falls silent, save for the creak of leather as our brothers shift restlessly.

Liam strikes first, a quick jab that I barely dodge.His fist grazes my cheek, a warning shot.I counter with a hook to his ribs, satisfyingly solid.

We trade blows, testing defenses.Liam fights smart, economical.Every punch has a purpose.But I’m younger, faster.I dance around his guard, peppering him with quick strikes.

A right cross catches me off guard.Pain explodes across my jaw.I taste blood.Fuck.

“That all you got?”I spit, grinning through bloody teeth.

Liam’s answering smile is all predator.“Just getting warmed up, son.”

The fight turns brutal.We abandon techniques for raw aggression.Knuckles split.Bruises bloom.Each impact reverberates through the room, punctuated by grunts of pain and exertion.

I lose track of time.The world narrows to this, fists and fury and the burning in my lungs.Liam lands a vicious body shot that steals my breath.I retaliate with an uppercut that snaps his head back.

We’re both bleeding now, sweat-slicked and panting.But neither of us is willing to yield.This isn’t just about Peterson anymore.It’s about respect.About proving ourselves worthy of Meadow.

The thought of her ignites something primal in my chest.With a roar, I charge forward, tackling Liam to the canvas.We grapple, a tangle of limbs and desperation.My fist connects with his temple.Once.Twice.

“Enough!”

Meadow’s voice cuts through the haze of violence like a knife.My fist freezes mid-swing, Liam’s blood hot on my knuckles.We lock eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?”she demands, fury blazing in her gaze.

Shame burns through me, hotter than any punch.I scramble off Liam, the canvas rough against my palms.The taste of copper floods my mouth.

Meadow storms into the ring, all righteous anger and flashing eyes.“Fighting like animals while Peterson’s out there?Are you insane?”

Her words sting worse than my split lip.I reach for her, but she jerks away.“Meadow, I?—”

“Save it,” she snaps.She turns to Liam, who’s struggling to his feet.“And you.My own father.I expected better.”

Liam has the decency to look ashamed.“Princess, we were just?—”

“Just what?Proving how tough you are?”Meadow’s voice drips with disdain.“While that psycho’s running free, threatening people I care about?”

The room falls silent, her words hanging heavy in the air.My brothers shift uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact.

Meadow takes a shaky breath, hands clenched at her sides.“If you two are done with this macho bullshit, maybe we can focus on the real problem.”

She turns on her heel, stalking toward the exit.Every eye in the room follows her.

“Meadow, wait,” I call out, desperation clawing at my throat.

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